That, and the pencil-heeled red shoes.
His hands and mouth travelled over her, caressing and demanding, making her moan low in her throat. He toyed and coaxed, until her skin and the lace were damp and her nerve endings were stretched and trembling, her breath shuddering in her chest.
And then they were naked and together on the bed, entwined. And it was long and slow and easy, want and need and demand and promise building, in a soft slow glide. She loved his body, the planes and hardness, the way he responded to her touch, the darkness in his eyes as she kissed and stroked. She quivered as he touched her, as his mouth found every sensitive place on her body, licking and caressing.
At last it was time. ‘Now Drew.’ She was breathing hard, her breasts heavy and taut with kisses, damp between her legs and wanting. So wanting.
This was the point … the …connection. Her chest constricted as he found her and slid inside, watching her face as he filled her, brushing back her hair so he could see her eyes. ‘I love you, Lori.’
Then he began to move and she moved with him, as they looked into each other’s eyes. And he kissed the hollow of her throat and made her cry out, and took her flying into the darkness with him.
Chapter Forty-Nine
17 December
It was a stiff, printed card.
‘You are invited to a Christmas Kidnapping. (Is that in horribly bad taste?)
Well. Yes, it is, but how can I resist?
Dress code: travelling attire of choice, an evening ensemble, or two, boots, warm sweaters.
Passport required.
If you are minded to respond to this invitation, a car will be waiting at 0900 hours tomorrow.
It was signed with three kisses.
So far, so James Bond.
She tapped the card against her teeth. The clues were in the choice of words. Somewhere at a distance. And cold. And you need evening clothes. Hmm.
What wasn’t there made her grin. It must have taken heroic effort not to mention underwear. She had some ideas on that score. Also shoes. The red pencil heels she’d worn to the party had been a big hit, she recalled.
She took herself off to rummage in her wardrobe; grateful for the overhaul Nevada’s stylist had conducted, supervised by Nevada, with contributions from Misty and Orlando. The red dress from the Christmas party was one of Misty’s choices. And that had worked out rather well.
Confident that the contents of her wardrobe was up to the task, Lori flung open the doors.
Drew sat in the coffee shop, listening to the muffled announcements over the station tannoy.
Would she come?
It didn’t matter if she didn’t, except that it did. He needed … this, to wipe out the memories of last year. They hadn’t talked about arrangement for the holiday. She’d mentioned casually that she’d be spending it with Dan, Nevada, Misty and Orlando – and, of course, Griff and Polly – and that he was welcome to join them, and left it at that … He stared at the cup of coffee in front of him, too wired to drink it and catapult himself into caffeine overload.
Nearly a year ago you were trapped in that hut, thinking about dying.
He shifted his arm, looking down at his wrist. The mark of the metal cuff had almost faded. He looked at his watch. It was time. He got up, leaving the coffee behind.
The driver delivered Lori to St Pancras, taking charge of both her cases and directing her to the platform she needed. She was beginning to get an idea …
She threaded her way through the crowds, feeling like a complete VIP, with her driver and her luggage following behind her. Drew was standing by the entrance to the Eurostar platform, dressed in a smart dark overcoat, his leather gloves in his hand, looking like the hero of every romantic black-and-white film she’d ever watched.
You’re amazing. And I love you.
Deserting the driver, she ran towards him. The look on his face when he saw her told her everything she needed to know, as he pulled her into his arms.
24 December
Lori stood at the window of the chalet, looking out over snow-covered peaks. The overnight stay and last-minute Christmas shopping in Paris, followed by the train journey across Switzerland, had been sheer magic. Now they were high in the mountains. They might be alone in the world.
The room was warm, fragrant with the scent of the enormous and heavily decorated pine tree that stood in the corner. The only sound was the occasional crackle from the fire in the hearth and the whisper as a log collapsed in on itself.
Drew came up behind her, putting his arms around her and pulling her against his chest. They stood together, looking out. ‘I wanted to go back to where it started, but different. Does that make sense?’ She felt his laugh. ‘I’m a writer. So good with words.’
‘Perfect sense.’ She tipped her head back against his shoulder, to look at him. ‘And you can’t expect snow in the Brecon Beacons every Christmas.’ She snuggled a little closer. The sky was darkening. ‘You can see the stars.’ She turned in his arms to brush a kiss over his mouth. ‘We’ve come a long way.’
‘You rescued me. All along the line.’ He rested his forehead on hers. ‘I’m different now, and I want to keep changing. This is …’ He gestured to the snowy landscape. ‘It’s a circle, but … it’s new. A different beginning.’
He was drawing something out of his pocket. ‘I didn’t know …’
It was a box. A small box. Lori’s heartbeat picked up.
‘I was going to wait until tomorrow to give you this, but tonight seems right.’ He put it into her palm.
Her fingers shook a little as she opened the lid.
The ring glittered like the snow behind the glass.
Drew put his hand around hers, enfolding her and the ring box. ‘I’ve lived most of my life with risk. Somehow this seems the biggest risk of all. And the biggest prize. Can you take a chance with me, Lori? I love you. Will you marry me?’
Lori looked down at the ring. If she’d ever imagined a proposal, it would never have been like this. With a man like this. But just because you couldn’t imagine it doesn’t mean it isn’t real.
She knew what it meant for Drew to give her this. To ask that question, to put himself back in another place, another time. With another woman. But that was the past. It would always be part of him, and she didn’t want to change that. But they could have something else. Something new.
She swallowed and raised her head. Drew’s beloved and anxious face swam over her. She was not going to cry. Well, maybe just a little. ‘I love you, Andrew Vitruvius. And yes. I’ll marry you.’
The light in his eyes as he lifted her off her feet, in a breath-stealing hug, flew straight to her heart. She clung on and lifted her face for his kiss.
‘Happy Christmas.’
* The End *
We would love to hear how you enjoyed What Happens at Christmas. Please leave a review on the eBook site where you purchased this novel. Reviews on retail sites really do help the author. Thank you!
Thank You
I hope you enjoyed reading What Happens at Christmas, and exploring a slightly darker side to the festive season. I really loved telling Lori and Drew’s story, which was largely written over the Christmas holiday. Some chapters were actually written on Christmas day, but I can’t remember which ones. It was fun too to give my Mr Cool, Devlin, the chance of a cameo appearance and provide a little glimpse of family life with Kaz. (If you haven’t encountered Kaz and Devlin before, their story is told in Never Coming Home).
Christmas is a busy time, but I hope What Happens at Christmas has given you some moments to put your feet up, with a mug of something indulgent, and escape to the snowy Brecon Beacons. Now that you have finished the book, if you could spare another moment to write and post a review online, this would be very welcome. Reviews are vital feedback, when the author gets to find out what you, the reader, thought about the book, and the time spent in posting is much appreciated.
Thank you for reading What Happens at Chris
tmas, and letting me be part of your holiday.
Evonne
About the Author
Evonne Wareham was born in South Wales and spent her childhood there. After university she migrated to London, where she worked in local government, scribbled novels in her spare time and went to the theatre a lot. Now she’s back in Wales, living by the sea, writing and studying for a PhD in history. She still loves the theatre, likes staying in hotels and enjoys the company of other authors through her membership of both the Romantic Novelists’ Association and the Crime Writers’ Association
Evonne’s debut novel, Never Coming Home won the 2012 Joan Hessayon New Writers’ Award, the 2013 Colorado Romance Writers’ Award for Romantic Suspense, the Oklahoma National Readers’ Choice Award for Romantic Suspense plus was a nominee for a Reviewers’ Choice Award from RT Book Reviews. Her second romantic suspense novel Out of Sight Out of Mind, was a finalist for the Maggie Award for Excellence, presented by the Georgia Romance Writers’ chapter of the Romance Writers’ of America.
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www.twitter.com/evonnewareham
www.evonneonwednesday.blogspot.com
More Choc Lit
From Evonne Wareham
Never Coming Home
Winner of the 2012 New Writers’ Joan Hessayon Award
All she has left is hope.
When Kaz Elmore is told her five-year-old daughter Jamie has died in a car crash, she struggles to accept that she’ll never see her little girl again. Then a stranger comes into her life offering the most dangerous substance in the world: hope.
Devlin, a security consultant and witness to the terrible accident scene, inadvertently reveals that Kaz’s daughter might not have been the girl in the car after all.
What if Jamie is still alive? With no evidence, the police aren’t interested, so Devlin and Kaz have little choice but to investigate themselves.
Devlin never gets involved with a client. Never. But the more time he spends with Kaz, the more he desires her – and the more his carefully constructed ice-man persona starts to unravel.
The desperate search for Jamie leads down dangerous paths – to a murderous acquaintance from Devlin’s dark past, and all across Europe, to Italy, where deadly secrets await. But as long as Kaz has hope, she can’t stop looking …
Purchase from your eBook provider or visit www.choc-lit.com for more details.
Out of Sight Out of Mind
Finalist for the Maggie Award of Excellence
Everyone has secrets. Some are stranger than others.
Madison Albi is a scientist with a very special talent – for reading minds. When she stumbles across a homeless man with whom she feels an inexplicable connection, she can’t resist the dangerous impulse to use her skills to help him.
J is a non-person – a vagrant who can’t even remember his own name. He’s got no hope, until he meets Madison. Is she the one woman who can restore his past?
Madison agrees to help J recover his memory, but as she delves deeper into his mind, it soon becomes clear that some secrets are better off staying hidden.
Is J really the man Madison believes him to be?
Purchase from your eBook provider or visit www.choc-lit.com for more details.
Summer in San Remo
Anything could happen when you spend summer in San Remo …
Running her busy concierge service usually keeps Cassie Travers fully occupied. But when a new client offers her the strangest commission she’s ever handled she suddenly finds herself on the cusp of an Italian adventure, with a man she thought she would never see again.
Jake McQuire has returned from the States to his family-run detective agency. When old flame Cassie appears in need of help with her mysterious client, who better than Jake to step in?
Events take the pair across Europe to a luxurious villa on the Italian Riviera. There, Cassie finds that the mystery she pursues pales into insignificance, when compared to another discovery made along the way …
Read a preview here …
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Preview
Summer in San Remo
by Evonne Wareham
CHAPTER ONE
Cassie Travers had handled a few unusual commissions in her time, but this one took the prize for the strangest.
She bounded up the last two steps, red hair flying, and threw open the door of her office with a flourish.
‘I have to have a husband by tomorrow morning!’
Benita Wells, her best friend and sole employee, gave her a narrow-eyed look. ‘Anyone’s in particular?’
‘I’m open to suggestions.’
Cassie bounced into a chair, green eyes glowing. She felt wonderful. The view from the window, of Bath’s sloping streets of honey-coloured stone, was magical, even in the rain. Everything was wonderful. They had a new job. An interesting job. There’s even an outside chance we might make some money.
Benita swivelled around to look her over. Cassie grinned. The grin was her secret weapon. She used it on clients, estate agents, car mechanics. If you could get the target to smile back, you were halfway home.
Unfortunately, it rarely worked on Benita.
Cassie knew what was coming. They’d been doing this routine ever since primary school. Bennie was the straight guy and voice of reason.
‘You left here for a meeting – what, an hour ago?’ Benita demanded. ‘Now you’re getting married? Did I miss something?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Only you, Cass!’
‘Stop making me sound like some sort of flake! We have a new client – Gerald Benson.’
‘And?’
‘He has a really simple job for us. All I have to do is fix myself up with a husband, by tomorrow.’
‘That’s simple?’ Benita moved a file from one side of her desk to the other, with ominous calm. ‘Look, I hate to break this to you, Cass, but I think it takes a little longer than twenty-four hours to arrange a wedding, even if you’ve got a man in mind. Which I know you haven’t.’
‘I might have.’ Cassie pouted, swinging her legs.
Benita blew out a breath, ruffling her fringe. ‘Honey, when there’s a man in your life, the whole world knows about it. You sing. Under your breath. All the time!’
‘I do?’ Cassie stopped swinging, startled.
‘Yes. It’s a testament to the excellence of my temper that you still live. If you want to continue to do so, you’d better tell me what the hell you’ve got us into now, and why you need a husband to do it. What does this man Benson want us to source for him?’
‘Nothing. Yeah, I know.’ Cassie held up her hand. ‘That’s what the agency is supposed to do, but not this time. This is different.�
�
‘Cassie – we don’t do different. We agreed when we set the business up that we wouldn’t take jobs that didn’t fit the brief. We don’t take just any old odd job. We’re a concierge service.’
‘A damn good one.’
Benita waved aside the interruption, refusing to be distracted. ‘We source goods and services for people who don’t have the resources or the time to do it for themselves. If this guy Benson doesn’t want restaurant reservations, or a butler, or a new house, or tickets for the centre court at Wimbledon, he’s not for us.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Cassie sighed. ‘But that was before the not-so-petty cash went missing.’ Stolen. It was stolen. Cassie scooped her hair away from her face. ‘We’re up against it, Bennie. Right now, a job is a job. Any job. This is strictly a one-off – Benson and his wife have been left a house by a reclusive uncle, who was very keen on the sanctity of marriage. There are conditions that have to be fulfilled, to prove that the Bensons are a loving couple and worthy of inheriting. It was Benson’s childhood home. If he doesn’t deliver, it goes to a distant cousin who wants to knock it down.’ Cassie speeded up before the objection that was brewing on Benita’s face made it out of her mouth. ‘The problem is, Mrs Benson is into mountain climbing. Ten days ago she went off with her sister to climb Ben Nevis or something. Benson doesn’t know where she is, and the first condition happens tomorrow.’
‘So …’ Benita frowned. ‘He wants us to find her?’
‘No-ooo.’ Cassie pursed her lips. This was the tricky bit. ‘He …’ There was no easy way to do this. She plunged in headlong. ‘Uh … He wants me to be her. Just for tomorrow, to collect some papers. He wants me, and my husband, to pretend to be them, while he goes off to find the real Mrs B, and brings her back as soon as possible.’
What Happens at Christmas Page 21
